Impossibilities

The woman at the well 
draws water for her child,
dreams of a husband 
taken by war

The child waits for water 
drawn from the well,
dreams of the cat 
curled in her apron

The cat curled in the apron
dreams of colors, 
but none of them are mine. 

I want to hear you whisper 
through broken walls, 
atop cathedral towers 
where the wind carries 
your words aloft,
like clouds, like fog, 
and when they fall like rain 
on your dancing feet 
I will give praise 
that does not bleed, 
Love that endures any storm.